


The Other Side Of The Heart: Redux (Chapter 28)

by princessofmind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofmind/pseuds/princessofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the day that Eridan Ampora died.</p><p>But then, he hadn’t known that he was going to die when he woke up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side Of The Heart: Redux (Chapter 28)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkSkratches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSkratches/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Other Side of the Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/321489) by [cul-de-sac (InkSkratches)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSkratches/pseuds/cul-de-sac). 



> The events of TOSOTH Chapter 28 from Eridan's POV.
> 
> Over three years ago, I sat in my hotel room at SDCC and bawled my fucking eyes out at chapter 28. And as I sat there crying and sobbing and hating everything, I swore that some day, I would re-write chapter 28 from Eridan's point of view, and now, three years later, after having spent a week visiting with Whit, I think now is the perfect time.

This was the day that Eridan Ampora died.

But then, he hadn’t known that he was going to die when he woke up.

What he was immediately aware of was that sleeping on the couch had been a horrible fucking idea regardless of how comfortable it had been at the time, and now it felt like he’d been reclining on a pile of gravel and broken glass instead of cushions. Also his toes were numb from where he’d kicked the blankets off at some point during the night. But there was still warmth there that he’d curled eagerly into as he slept, and those arms were still holding him tight despite how they’d shifted in the night. Sollux was breathing shallowly under him, lips parted and hair in disarray against the decorative pillow that rested under his head.

It was immediately more tempting to curl closer and pull the blankets over them once more, curl against his chest and let the drowsiness drag him back under. But a quick dig between the cushions found his phone, which meant it was exactly too soon to get up for work but too late to risk going back to sleep. And while the lull of his body and the smell of his skin was tantalizing, if he lingered, he would end up unconscious again in no time flat, and the extra time in the shower would probably help his aching muscles.

Everything felt vaguely sore as he extracted himself from the tangle of limbs, smoothing a hand through Sollux’s hair and kissing his forehead when he murmured in sleepy protest. His lids didn’t even move, but he still tried to follow the warmth of his body, nose wrinkled in displeasure, and was only soothed with kisses pressed to his face and fingers stroking through the already displaced strands. Easing the blankets back over his prone form, Eridan made his way as quietly as he could to the shower, hissing at the cold tile against his already glacial toes.

Of course, stepping into the steaming shower only made them hurt worse, but it was worth the immediate prickles of pain for the sweet, sweet relief the heat eventually provided.

At first, he didn’t do much else besides stand under the spray, because everything felt vaguely achy and sore, like despite how young he was, his body protested the idea of sleeping on the couch like some sort of grumpy old man who needed a proper bed to get any decent rest. But fuck that, if he wanted to sleep on the couch with his boyfriend, he damn well would, even if it made him feel like he’d gone a couple rounds with a bear.

The steam was probably doing great things for his skin anyways, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time to kill before leaving to work.

Which was still a bit of a novel concept, even now.

When he’d been younger, spending his days in the hospital with little to no company and a not especially bright future awaiting him, he’d had dreams of grandeur. Of finally being free of the white walls and scratchy sheets and saccharine sweet nurses, and becoming a traveler, an actor, a life-saving doctor, or a musician. Like maybe if he tried hard enough, he could do something worthwhile with his all too brief life.

But even once he’d moved on from those dreams, and thought wishfully instead of nothing more than a normal life. There’d still been some nebulous something that he’d been struggling towards, some greater goal that he wasn’t entirely sure of, because even though he wanted to be “normal”, he didn’t have a job or do anything besides wistfully pluck at his guitar and try (and fail, several times, miserably) to make friends.

Now, though. It wasn’t the grandeur he’d sought as a child or the great, monumental fulfillment he’d thought of when he first left on this little expedition. He was working at a coffee shop, with no real aspiration to do anything more than that, budding relationships and friendships finally starting to show promise, and a boyfriend he’d never in his wildest dreams (or nightmares, he sometimes joked) imagined he’d find himself with.

Maybe this was enough.

Maybe this, living a life so boring that most people wouldn’t even consider being thankful for it, was enough.

Through the walls, he could hear the sound of Sollux banging around in the kitchen, and the thought of what might await him when he got out made his stomach do an uncomfortable twist and roll that was half anticipation and dread. So he hurried through his routine, washing and conditioning and scrubbing, and by the time he emerged, the whole room was cloudy with steam and there was condensation dripping down the mirror, leaving tracks like tears down the reflective surface.

He didn’t bother with clothes just yet, barely even bothered to dry himself off, and it was with dripping hair and damp feet that he made his way out to the kitchen, skin flushed pink from the heat of the shower. Apparently Sollux had been up long enough to locate some clothes, and there was something so heartwarming and domestic about seeing him standing there over a mixing bowl, measuring flower with a slight frown on his face like he’d gotten about half way through his project before realizing the instructions he was following were in Spanish.

It was cute, regardless of what it meant for his health.

“Pancakes?” Eridan asked, standing close enough to feel his body, still warm even in light of the scalding water that had been cascading from the shower head just minutes earlier.

Sollux didn’t look startled by his sudden appearance, had probably heard him approaching but didn’t bother to say anything, and looked up from his measuring cup with a conflicted look on his face. “Hopefully.”

The words hung in the air with a sense of foreboding, and it was as if they were both remembering the last time Sollux had attempted to make pancakes and reached the inevitable, scientific conclusion that these would probably go the same route. They both visibly blanched, although Sollux made no move to do the sensible thing and burry the impending gastrointestinal disaster in the back yard.

“Well, that’s fuckin’ ambitious a you,” he said, making a face. Cereal it is, then.

“Don’t be a jackass,” Sollux replied sharply, intercepting his arm and nudging it away with his shoulder, giving him a sharp look. “At least try them first.”

The disgusted look on his face intensified, because that was exactly the last thing he wanted to do. Vriska would probably burry him in a snowbank if he puked at the store. “You burned the fuck out a the last ones. I need real sustenance if I’m gonna get through a full day a servin’ coffee to an endless line of assholes.”

Sollux dropped the measuring cup in his bowl, turning to give Eridan the full force of his chastised, you’re about five seconds away from getting flour dumped in your nice clean hair, look. “Just finish getting ready,” he snapped irritably, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks, and when he turned back to his cooking, he looked just the slightest bit indignant. Like someone who was trying to do something for someone very ungrateful but wasn’t going to call them out on it directly.

Sweet.

But he was still going to poison him.

“Fine,” he groused, shuffling out of the kitchen unhappily to finish doing his hair. It was one of the seven wonders of the world, after all, and needed the appropriate amount of time poured into doing it. He was so good at the act of gelling and teasing and drying that it felt like almost no time passed, but he’d listened to Sollux bitch about it enough that he was well aware that it took a decent amount of time. Not that he really thought he minded so much, because he looked a lot nicer with his hair done properly, but it was like a relationship obligation to complain about whoever took the slightest bit longer to get ready.

A small part of him had hoped to emerge from the bathroom, dressed and ready to face the day, and meet the smell of pancakes sizzling and his boyfriend standing over them like an overprotective mother hen, waiting to flip at just the right moment.

Instead, it looked like a fucking bomb had gone off in his kitchen, and Sollux was stirring furiously at something that looked to be the exact consistency of craft glue.

His eyes snapped up when he saw Eridan standing in the doorway, rolling up his sleeves, and he brandished his spatula, dripping with batter, to try and keep him back. But Eridan managed to duck under his arm (and not a bit of batter on him, score), seizing the bowl and getting a better look at the mixture.

This never was, and never would be, a pancake.

“Shut up,” Sollux snapped when he groaned in disgust.

“Sol, that looks like glue, not batter. What the fuck did you even put in there, cement?

“It’s fine,” Sollux insisted, seizing the bowl and turning so Eridan couldn’t look at it anymore, like it might magically transform into proper breakfast if neither of them could see it. “It’s supposed to look like this.”

“Well, okay, if you say so,” Eridan replied, because there were some battles just not worth fighting. “But could you hurry it up? I need a ride in like, half an hour.” He paused, lips curling up in a smile. “And not that kinda ride either, this is my work and it needs to be taken seriously.”

Sollux made a show of looking exasperated with him, but there was no hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips as well. It was tempting to kiss it off, but again, no time.

Speaking of time, he moved to the window, peering out at the snow piled up on the ground and still falling sluggishly from the sky. “It snowed a lot,” he commented, looking at the way the vast whiteness was unblemished so early in the morning, blanketing everything in soft powder.

“Oh yeah?”

Including the car. Great. Sollux was caught up in being the next Iron Chef or whatever he thought he was doing, and he’d be late if someone didn’t get out there and move some snow. “I’m gonna go dig your car out,” he said, sighing at the thought of having to go out in the cold and do _manual labor_ but unwilling to be late. “Do we have a shovel?”

Sollux stopped stirring, that telltale pinch between his eyebrows as he looked at him. “No. KK does, but…”

He knew that look. And while he didn’t get it as often now, it still made him frown in clear warning. Because he wasn’t a child or an invalid, regardless of his condition, and even though he knew why Sollux was so protective, he still wanted to pull his own weight. It was just shoveling a bit of snow. “I’ll just head over there and steal it from his garage for a couple seconds.” The displeasure melted from his face, and he grinned. “He won’t even notice.”

Sollux still didn’t look happy, but much like Eridan had done with the pancake catastrophe, he knew better than to push too hard. “Just…bundle up, okay? Put on those earmuffs I got for you.”

Oh, great, because those always made his hair look _so good_. There was a reason he almost never worse them. “They’re gonna mess up the masterpiece I made a my hair this mornin’, but whatever your majesty, I’ll do as instructed.”

“And your mittens,” Sollux added as he started to walk away, making Eridan gust an exasperated sigh before heading back to his bedroom where they’d been abandoned last. It took a bit of searching to find them (kicked under the bed) and the earmuffs (under a pile of crap on his desk) and his coat (which was in the closet where it was supposed to be), but once he was out in the cold, he was glad for it because it was fucking freezing.

Every time he thought he was getting used to the harsher winter, shit like this just had to prove him wrong.

Rotating his shoulders to try and shake the ache that still clung oppressively to his bones, he trudged across the flawless expanse of white, leaving a trail of footprints right to the garage. Hopefully it would snow more after he got done, because otherwise it would be real damn obvious that someone from his house came to do some sort of something at Karkat’s house, and the last thing he wanted to do was get yelled at because he didn’t wake someone up and alert them to the fact that he was borrowing a goddamn shovel for five minutes.

So he just walked into the garage (open, because they were goddamn morons who forgot to close the thing half the time, regardless of the weather), locating the beat-up shovel easily where it leaned right near the opening. Triumphant, he shouldered the tool and trudged back to his own driveway, shuffling a bit so his footprints weren’t so distinct, looking instead like railroad tracks with black asphalt peeking through the snow.

Jesus fuck, it was _cold_.

Teeth chattering, he set about his work with the driveway as quickly as possible. There was something romantic about snow, watching it fall, laying on the powder to make snow angels and then going back inside afterwords to drink hot chocolate and curl up on the couch together, sharing blankets and warmth and maybe dreams when they fell asleep. While this aspect of it sucked, he wouldn’t deny how much he loved getting cozy and warm, because his boyfriend was a damn good cuddler and there was no better way to chase off the chill than to share space with him. Just thinking about it made his heart beat a little quicker.

Too quick, actually.

Sinking the shovel into the snow with a frown, Eridan pressed a hand to his chest, taking stock of how his pulse continued to race, faster than was normal for excited, for exertion, and his lungs felt tight, like when he’d hauled his guitar case around all summer like a fucking moron. His fingertips felt tingly, and now that he was thinking about it, so did his lips.

Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong.

Maybe he just needed to sit down for a second. Sollux might bitch about having to cook breakfast on top of shoveling the driveway, but it would beat making himself sick, and no matter how much he complained, he knew that his boyfriend would put his health above any inconvenience. Only as soon as he let go of the shovel and took a step towards the house, his knees buckled, and the snow wasn’t nearly as soft when he was crashing into it with a lead weight on his chest that was continuing to get heavier and heavier.

The ground was so cold against his cheek, and it felt like his lungs were being rolled up like a sleeping bag, and every ounce of air was being squeezed from them until they ached with an intensity to rival the shooting pain in his chest that was setting all his nerves on fire. It hurt so bad, like someone was carving open his ribcage without any anesthesia, sinking their hands into the tissue and organs and squeezing and twisting whatever they could find.

It felt like.

It felt like.

His tongue was like glue in his mouth, and every breath he tried to take just sent lances of agony through his body, carving up into his brain until he could barely see straight. Could barely see the outline of the front door through the tears streaming down his face.

“Sol,” he whispered, lips numb around the syllable, and he couldn’t even hear the words himself despite how oppressively silent the snowfall was. If he could just raise his voice a little more, call out for him, scream, then…

He didn’t want to die alone.

_He didn’t want to die alone._

Not when he was so close. When he was just on the other side of that door, still stirring his stupid fucking pancakes or maybe even putting them in the pan by now. He wanted to kiss him, hold him, trace his features with his fingers and see him smile, hear him laugh and tell him to quit being such a fucking drama queen and just finish shoveling the driveway so they could both go to work and get the day over with. So they could come home and eat dinner together, maybe curl up in bed and watch a movie while they drank more hot chocolate. Maybe make some more snow angels before tumbling under the blankets together to warm up.

Sollux was always so warm.

He loved him so much.

He loved him so much and he didn’t want to die alone.

But the weight on his chest was so heavy. Like it was trying to squish him flat.

Like a pancake.

Like a snow angel.

It was so cold.

So cold.

Cold.


End file.
